Married With Blue Children
by Kachimoochi
Summary: A parody of the hit series Married With Children, in Mass Effect form. The Curse of Al Bundy is infinite, it lasts across galaxies, timelines, and universes, What would happen if Al Bundy existed in the twenty-third century?, much of the same really.
1. Chapter 1

Married With Blue Children

A Mass Effect Fan Fiction

By Kachimoochi

In the 23th century one would assume that poverty would have been extinguished and humanity would have gained a greater respect for one's occupations and their fellow man, they of course wouldn't know humanity well.

Al Bundy sauntered along a fabricated corner of a prefab settlement in the Citidel, his 2179 Dodge Skyline having broken down for the fourth and seemingly final time this year.

Al however retained a smile upon his face, as there was one upside to losing the only thing he cared about in this world. Al had spent all of his meager paycheck from the new-age shoe store on the repairs. The Krogan mechanic was familiar with the model, and was indeed disappointed to deliver Al the news that the Dodge was irreparable, though Al insisted he take his paycheck and spend it on anything for the Dodge.

With only 125 credits, the most it could afford would be an air freshener, a Quarian knockoff air freshener, a low-end Quarian knockoff air freshener.

The Prefab was modeled after a 19th century Earth house as part of a Human immigration initiative, if the Asari were one thing, they were hopelessly generous. Al stared at the house for a minute, his jovial expression turning into one of horror as he imagined what awaited for him on the inside.

Al was not like other humans, for he suffered in a horrible way that none other could imagine. He was once a star athlete in his secondary schooling on earth, playing the human game of football at Bush High. He had girls of every race grasping for a simple touch of his once broad shoulders, but there was only one being that caught his eye.

That being was an Asari, or a girl as he once called them before he knew the truth. She had a reputation around the school, with legendary situations; they almost were never the same whenever they were told. She was the epitome of Asari perfection, with a lithe figure and stylish red markings on her head crest.

Two years later, 7 bottles of Thessian Brandy, and a shotgun wedding by what can only be described as "Asari Rednecks", P'geesa Wankari was now P'geesa Bundy, and that was the beginning of the end for Al Bundy.

What had seemed like a traditional human housewife at first soon revealed their true nature. P'geesa started small, a handbag there, a monogrammed lipstick tube there. And quickly graduated to Sofas made of the rarest Thessian velvet, and the finest human cuisine, for herself (itself) only. She (It) now exists as a red colored beast, consuming currency and happiness that Al may ever possess.

Al couldn't remember when or what he last ate, he must have, as he was barely clinging to life, his main sustenance was based on dextro homeless shelters, though the food to humans was inedible, it was the only grub that Al was afforded, the homeless were only too happy and sympathetic to oblige.

Much as her mother, their Asari offspring, Ke'lliva possessed much the same reputation. Her chrest was dyed like that of a blond female, and possessed the intelligence of a Varren Steak…well done. She dated every being of every race of every age, there was a time where Al would have stopped her behavior, but that time had long since passes, Asari will be Asari.

Al insisted on adopting a human male as another child, praying that he would become a double of himself, such as his Asari daughter, but Ryn (short for Ryncol) Bundy, named after his father's favorite brand, lived in the shadows of his father and society at large, desperately and pathetically attempting to become popular at any cost, usually Al's financial and legal cost.

Al's only companion in the tribulation of his life was his pet Verren Bu'kk, a seemingly loyal guardian, though was usually more consumed with his own devices than the struggles of his master, Al might have known this fact, if only he wasn't desperate for any sort of affection.

These were the histories and thoughts that revolved around Al's mind as he operated the console to unlock his home, to which he thought of a witty line to arouse some interest in his absent wife.

"Well P'eg, we still have the prefab, must have been a slow day on the Extranet shopping network, or has your Mother used it as collateral for the all you can eat human restaurant on Thessia" Al bellowed, rejoicing at the momentary victory.

"Doesn't be foolish Al, not even a starving Vorcha could find value in our beautiful hovel" P'gee retorted.

"That actually gives me some comfort, between working for 10 hours at the shoe hell, and 10 hours crying over my life, a man should be able to enjoy 4 hours of peace in his castle" Al spoke confidently now.

"Make that one hour of peace honey, I want you to go to O'Driscoll's and order me some of those Irish Bon Bons that they're selling now"

"Well honey, as much as I'd like to spend 3 hours driving to the edge of the Citadel to purchase 6 bon bons for 750 credits, I'm afraid you're out of luck, For god (or goddess, one or the other has abandon Al) has granted be a kindness and decimated my beautiful Dodge" Al spoke as he rested his skeletal weight on the stained and disheveled Thessian velvet couch.

"Oh… I'm sorry honey, I forgot to tell you that I heard some funny sounds coming from the Dodge, when I used it to bring my mother to the Weight Loss Clinic, I must have meant to tell you, but I was too happy, remember my mom lost a whole 6 galactic pounds" P'gee explained absentmindedly.

"Well I can see how you'd be distracted by that P'gee, what with the Dodge struggling with the gravity thrusters under the 765 other galactic pounds, I didn't know fat Asari existed, but it only makes sense that it's only my life that's spared from miracles" Al expressed defeated

"Oh AaaahhhLll" P'gee explaimed, "Maybe the graceful elegance and success of our children will cheer your spirits…kids come down!"

Al's life ran through slow motion as he viewed an Asari wearing little more than a plastic top, with bottoms covering only the essentials, and a small, depressed human boy stomp their way down the stairs in aid of their mother

This is Al Bundy's life, and fear not more tales of the Bundy clan are to come

For the suffering of Al Bundy will always exist, even in another timeline.


	2. Married With Blue Children II

Married With Blue Children

By Kachimoochi

Chapter II

What is the scariest thing you can think of?

What chills you soul to its very core and makes you beg for the sweet release of death?

If nothing else, this tale of the cursed Bundy shall impose an appreciation upon you for your fortunes; after all…you could be an intergalactic shoe salesman.

"AL!" a thundering voice boomed

"Dad?, what is it?"

"Come here son, there's uh… something I want to talk to you about"

"Yeah Dad, what is it?"

"I couldn't help but tell ya again how proud I am of you for scoring four touchdowns in one game against the Ryncol Roughhousers, you sure showed those Krogan how Humans play football" Al's father said, with a twinkle in his eye

"Yeah Dad thanks, I've waited a long time to hear those words" Al spoke with a tear coming out of his eye

"NOW DON'T BE GOING ALL SISSY ON ME, there's something else I need to talk to you about too, it's about that new Asari girlfriend of yours…uh…Peggy" Al's father bellowed as he snapped his fingers in effort to remember her familiar name

"Her name is P'geesa, and I know what you're gonna say, but you're wrong, P'eg isn't like the other Asari, you can't believe everything that comes out of Pastor Ramon's mouth" Al said shifting his eyes from his father's gaze

"Son, I'm 51 years old, I know more about Asari than your girlfriend will ever let you know about, believe me THEY'RE ALL THE SAME"

"They say they'll stay with you forever, and the minute they plant you in the ground they run off with the next organism with a wallet, they say they'll be your sugar momma, when a week later you'll be pulling double shifts at the Burger Emperor just to finance the engagement ring she'll force you to buy, and finally, they'll start out all foxy and smooth, and by year 4 they'll end up 500 pounds and scratchy, from what I don't know". Al's father ranted; face nearly turning purple from blind rage

"Yes Dad, I remember your toast at my 5th grade graduation, my teacher Mrs. Gr'onni and her Krogan husband really appreciated the sentiment". Said Al with his head tilted to the sky, in recollection of that fateful day

Al's father instinctively rubbed his posterior and jaw in equal fear

"Ma point still stands, you be careful around that Wankari girl-thing-whatever, even as Asari go, I've heard she's done things that are illegal in 12 different galaxies, including ours"

"Dad I'm telling you you're wrong, P'eg understands me like none other, she treats me to meals, she's affectionate with me, she even complains when I buy her expensive things… I don't care what you say…she's the woman of my dreams" Al shouted in rebellion against his father, as he exited the house into his brand new Dodge Skyline

"That boy's toast" Al's father shuddered in defeat as he sunk into his recliner and watched reruns of "Mentally-Deranged Dad"

The previous scene is what played through Al's head as he stared into the deepest circle of hell, the foot of a 900 year-old Asari.

Dear reader, I pray that you too haven't fallen prey to the subliminal advertising that the galaxy has presented in terms of Asari. It is a false rumor that Asari become more voluptuous and gorgeous with age, I can tell you that only the voluptuous part is truth, they conveniently leave out their necks, stomachs, posteriors, and mouths. I'd bet you've seldom seen one with no less that a thin stomach, smooth, serpentine skin, and a warm voice befitting of an angel…If ever you seek the truth, you need only consult Al Bundy.

Though what stared back at Al Bundy can scarcely be considered the legal definition of a foot, for it possessed 7 toes, Al didn't know if it was natural, then again, nothing else about it was. It wasn't scaled like other Asari, but rather consisted of paper flakes wilting away in the confines of a size 4 heel, until liberated by their careless owner. Perhaps Al was simply hallucinating, but he swears on his like that he could hear they beg for a merciful death.

One would imagine that the owner of said abominations, if not trying to solve the issue, would at least be understanding and compassionate towards the unsung hero who must size the behemoths, Al needed only to tilt his head 45 degrees upwards to dispel such a ridiculous notion, the glaring blue face shouted a thousand words without uttering one.

"Aren't you done yet, I still have to buy a dress for my hot date tonight" the behemoth groaned in a high-pitched screech

"Ma'am please be patient with me, the shower curtain store doesn't close until 11pm anyways, unless you're more of a bear-skin rug kind of gal" Al spoke with an expressionless face

"Human, by the look of your 3 credit shirt and the eye-bags with 200,000 credits in debt, I'd say that you need this job, so I'd advise you to treat me with the respect an elder deserves, your luck I'm so forgiving" Behemoth spoke with a smirk

"You've got a good point" Al added "Although, I imagine that killing you, gutting you, and selling your remains to a Chinese restaurant would clear me of all the debt…Oh wait I forgot…whaling is illegal!"

With that, by defying the laws of gravity and physics, Behemoth rose itself out of the chair, kicked Al in the face, and strutted confidently out of the shoe store, forgetting her size 4 heels.

Al rested on the ground, it being his only respite besides his unpaid lunch quarter-hour. Despite the blood trickling down his lip, Al smiled, for any victory against the feminine benefactors of his misery was more satisfying than any could imagine.

At closing time, Al rejoiced at the cash register, as it rung up an extra 2 credits, the perfect amount for a newspad, as if he could afford an omni-tool.

He resumed his routine by stopping for dinner at the Turian homeless shelter, where multitudes of forgotten males of Turian and Quarian origin congregated in mutual confidence.

"Hey Yorli" Al spoke to the female Turian attending the cafeteria line, "One of the usual please"

As customary, the line of disenfranchised dextros formed a partition, if they had a red carpet; they'd have laid it out for Al.

Al was little more than a legend around the shelter; newcomers were enlightened to the Curse of Al Bundy, and how he suffered more that they could ever imagined

As sniffed the plate of food in front of him "Ah…Palaven Trout with a side of purple corn and a carton of carbonated Rorhev juice, and for dessert, an authentic slice of Frumantarii Fruit Tart" he spoke with voice crack "Praise the Spirits" Al bellowed

"Praise the Spirits" the masses followed

The food of course was inedible to humanity, at least with deadly consequences, but Al was a special case, such as AM fed the Humans rotten morsels of food, whoever cursed the Bundy granted him morsels of inedible food.

Al soon finished the food, and laid slovenly along the his private bench, which none dared enter out of respect, save for one curious Quarian child, who was out of reach of his mother for one second too many

The child gently shook Al awake and asked him a single question

"Mr. Human sir…my mom and dad say that humans can't eat our food, but all this time you do, how do you do it?" the masses were amazed that the child possessed the courage to speak to such a tortured soul, and leaned forward to hear Al's response.

As if casted by the God Zeus himself the shelter was racked with a powerful force, a thunderous crack as if the very Citadel was splitting in two, men quaked, women hid, and children simply stared in amazement.

The sound was centralized entirely within Al's lower intestine.

Al patted the hooded head of the child "That by dear boy is why"

Al placed his tray in the garbage, placed the newspad under his shoulder, and ventured to the nearest restroom.

To which none would dare enter for days to come.


	3. Married With Blue Children III

Married With Blue Children

By Kachimoochi

Chapter III

For thirty thousand years humanity crafted itself to become the top of the food chain. Though humanity wasn't strong enough to defeat all of Earth's beasts, through combinations of luck and intelligence, they conquered the entire Earth, and everything on it.

In the beginning humans needed the sharpest on senses to both capture prey and evade predators. They possessed agility and smell abilities lost to the modern human, and many believe such human lost their touch with the abilities long ago. They are wrong of course, for when in extreme survival circumstances, the prime survival instincts of a human can turn it into a beast of pure instinct.

It is in this capacity we find the prime example of such a human. Al Bundy stalked alongside the main sofa, crouching behind it and sniffing into the air. It was then he located his prey, a monstrous beast containing the most delicious of flesh. Al's eyes turned yellow and catlike with predation, and equipped the only weapon on his person, a toothpick legendary toothpick that had been the downfall of many beasts before it. In Viking fashion, Al named it Stanislova-The Food Gatherer.

The beast was centralized to the kitchen of Al's dungeon, feasting on an equally great feast of candied chocolate, used as bait by the other ferocious beast that inhabited the dungeon, the beast known as P'geesa. The beast though ferocious, paid no mind to its surroundings, as the candied chocolate button was tantamount to a red-sand needle; it robbed its consumer of all senses in place of raw, carnal pleasure.

The beast of course didn't realize the simian beast which stealthily climbed the kitchen side-table, and stared at it with feline eyes, grinning like a nightmare.

And thus, in one fell swoop, the avian beast jumped from the table and impaled the beast and its chocolate treat on Stanislova, creating a shishkabob like delicacy, driven almost completely mad, Al ran his tongue along the shishkabob. The beast, which for the record was a citadel-invading cockroach, died without pain, another.

Another victim in the vicious "circle of life" for humanity.

Al of course came to his senses soon after and once again lost his sense of smell and feline eyes, and fell to his knees in prayer.

"Lord" he began "Thank you for blessing me with this bountiful feast, and I pray equally for the soul of the valiant cockroach I slain in battle for it, he fought honorably, and I hope you'll accept him into your kingdom, Amen"

As if from thin air, Al pulled a napkin from his pocket and fastened it into the center of his shirt, and also equipped a knife and fork, preparing to eat the cockroach, whilst saving the candied chocolate button for later.

"Oh Hi Aaaalllll" boomed a fearsome, expensive voice as it crossed the threshold from the outdoor world, no doubt delivering another pox upon Al Bundy's life.

"Hmm...that's an interesting sight, the only reason you would leave the house P'eg is to either spend my money on clothes, accessories, or food, I wonder which it was this time" Al said sarcastically as he swallowed his nemesis, savoring the insect flavor.

"Actually all three" P'eg exclaimed with glee "The Rowids are coming over tonight for dinner, and I had to spend extra money on overnight delivery for dextro food, they are our guests after all"

"I actually don't mind either, I've been eating dextro food for the last twenty years, and maybe this time I'll finally die from it" Al said hopefully

"So I'm going to start dinner, but first I need to read the directions for the microwave, in the meantime you can get dressed into something proper"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

"Al this is a special occasion, you don't want to offend Marseye or Steiv with our poverty do you? That's why I went to R.C. Lenny's and bought a new dress" she spoke as she pulled a purple cocktail dress from a glitter-soaked bag, Al could see the price tag visibly containing at least 5 digits, though he paid it no mind, he lost interest in complaining about P'eg's constant spending long ago.

"Well seeing as I'm still paying off a loan I took out to buy my clothes back from that time you pawned them to buy lottery tickets, the only thing I have that whispers decency is my wedding tuxedo, which I've sworn to never wear again, it's cursed I tell you!" Al remarked pointing his finger to the sky.

"You can't blame me for that you know, I went to see the Consort that morning, and she said that today would be a day that would financially affect my family for the rest of my husband's life" P'eg tried to defend herself.

"Well she wasn't wrong P'eg, combining the cost of the pawn bill and the Consort appointment, we now owe more than the combined GDP of the Citadel, which was all in my name of course" Al retorted as he climbed the stairs to their bedroom to change into the cursed clothing.

In about an hour's time there was a ring on their door console, which Al answered wearing a very loose fitting tuxedo. The tuxedo was once tight against his once bulging muscles and toned physique, but those were all distant memories now.

"Hey Steiv, so nice of you to drop by" he noticed Marseye "Aw… you shouldn't have, you brought our favorite meal, chicken cordon bleu" he sarcastically remarked to Marseye's face.

This remark undoubtedly resulted in a kick to Al's shins by the powerful Turian leg of Marseye Rowids, Her Turian husband Steiv crept carefully into the house, cautious not to touch anything that contained germs, knowing he'd already have to spend an hour disinfecting his shoes when they returned home.

Marseye greeted and embraced P'eg and led her into the kitchen to assist in preparing their dextro meal.

"So Steiv, how'er they hanging" Al spoke trying to start conversation

"Fine, I'd ask you the same, but that would be redundant wouldn't it" Steiv spoke in his dual voice, not insulting him, but merely stating the obvious reality, which Al agreed with.

"Where are the goblins…err…impressionable offspring you call children?" Steiv inquired as he took a seat on the silk couch

"Well Ryn is next door hanging on an artificial tree peeking on Mrs. Syblen next door, and K'elli is…" Al thought for a moment "Which school boy hasn't K'elli dated yet P'eg?" He yelled into the kitchen

"I believe the only one left, that nice Turian third-grader with the face tattoo of a human skull" P'eg responded absentmindedly, as she sat on a kitchen chair, having tricked Marseye into cooking the entire meal herself

"Sooo…we can expect her back around six A.M." Al responded uninterested as he joined Steiv on the sofa.

"Hmm" Steiv noted unsurprised "So today I got a customer at the bank who wanted a loan for an Elcor footwear store, he seemed substantial, but I figured your store couldn't use the competition, so I said that there wasn't a market for one, you're welcome" Steiv declared reeking in snobbishness

"You truly are a kind soul Steiv, why would I want to be liberated from my eternal damnation, when I can remain employed and sustain myself and my family on Blasto Cards which I have to pawn for singular credit chits?" Al said with an ironic smile upon his face

"Uh huh, so how was your day?" Steiv spoke before realizing the tremendousness of his mistake

"Well before I feasted on a cockroach, the delicacy of my ancestors, I had a rather civil conversation with a lovely human female on the politics of slippers at the shoe store" Al spoke tilting his head to the sky in reminiscence

Around six hours before, Al was faced with the inventory wall of size 17 shoes, trying his best to either find a pair of shoes that would satisfy the uncompromising customer, or trying to find a way secret escape tunnel from the Shoe store…or rather Footwear store. The Citadel government didn't appreciate the word shoe in the name, as they felt it wasn't inclusive to the species that couldn't wear shoes, specifically the Vorcha.

"Hey buddy" The gargantuan, masculine human female shouted into the inventory room "I'm running late for my Salarian aerobics class, I just want something that can handle a lot of jumps"

Panicking at the impending stampede that would befall the poor human, he grabbed the closest footwear in sight, and ventured hopelessly through the curtain separating the inventory from the store.

"Ma'am, though the Citadel possesses state-of-the-art gravity modules, our shoes do not, the only thing I can offer you are these slippers that look like pigs, I bet they'd suit you perfectly" Al spoke with faux confidence and a smirk upon his face.

"Oh really, well I wish I could offer you something that could cover that bald spot on your head, but maybe the lice would kill it as well" The customer retorted with an equally satisfied smirk upon her face. "I'm not taking them"

"Perhaps I can make a suggestion" Al began "Try crushing…er jumping with your bear…and I do mean Bear feet, and if by some miracle you lose weight on your feet, come try us again" Al spoke again confidently "Though I would first stop by a plastic surgeon to try and reshape that snout, or hey…if you give up on the aerobics, you can try to divert some of that massive weight into a proportional place, like where your breasts should be. That chocolate bar in your pants looks like a good start"

The customer didn't dignify him with a response, but rather with a swift kick to Al's groin, felling him instantaneously. This wasn't enough of a punishment fate decided, as the customer began to lose her balance, and began to fall upon her poor victim.

Life flashed before Al's eyes, he knew he'd survive; fate was too cruel to let him die.

"And that's the story of how my kidney and lungs switched places" Al finished, leaving Steiv with his jaw hanging out, in sheer shock.

"Oh boys, dinner's ready" Marseye spoke, her brand new dress that she bought just for this occasion now stained with flour and other random dextro ingredients.

"Let's see if my torment is about to end" Al spoke plainly, as he said earlier, Al was all but invincible, so that fate or god or such could continue to torment him for some inexplicable reason.


	4. Married With Blue Children IV

Married With Blue Children

By Kachimoochi

Chapter IV

The streets and skylines of The Citadel are a dangerous place after dark, or indeed anytime, but especially after dark.

It is especially dangerous for Human men, for this is the time cycle in which women of every species prowl the streets looking for a man. They want this creature to either satisfy their lust or their need for gratification, usually expensive gratification.

It isn't an uncommon sight to see an innocent Human male meandering along the fabricated streets in search of a late-night snack, nighttime entertainment, or even a brisk exercising expedition, only to become attached to a female in want of a free male and a free ride home.

The males may try to run, but the women of The Citadel turn into brutal, uncaring savages…more than usual at least. If they can't have their way with their prey, they will at least consume their prey's wallet in their daring escape.

Legend has it, that the Prothean's created race, the Keepers of the Citadel were once cursed beings. It is said that the male Keepers were stern taskmasters, forcing the female Keepers to scrub floors, wax artificial plants, and construct floor by floor of artificial platforms all by their lonesome. It is said that the spirits of the vengeful female Keepers return in the nighttime cycle of the Citadel and inhabit the female beings within it. The spirits exact their revenge on the closest men in sight, by robbing them either of their finances or their pride. Or so the stories go.

And thus many men on the Citadel wouldn't dare venture out during the nighttime, that is, until a hero delivered them vengeance.

"Aaaallll!...rub my touchie!" roared a whining screech by what may have appeared as a blue humpback whale to her skeleton of a mate.

"Peg, come on! My fingers are still crooked from when I tried to force a size 4 shoes onto that female Krogan, it's made my arthritis worse, please have mercy on me Peg!" The poor skeleton whined, knowing full well that the beast had no empathy for such an empty being.

The couple known as P'egeesa and Al Bundy lied together in bed, with P'eg dreaming about a shirtless human pirate rescuing her from her Imperial captors, and Al dreaming of the only time he felt pleasure in his life, the time he scored 4 touchdowns in one game…all those years ago.

"Al…you humans promise to marry for sickness and in health, well my touchie's health needs your healing hands, you know I can't go to sleep without the proper motions!" screeched P'eg, wanting desperately to go back to her dream, cursing her touchie's need for emotional anguish from a man.

"And Asari marry until their current wallet dies, can't you ask one of your backup plans P'eg" the skeleton known as Al pleaded to the red-crested beast.

"Al Bundy! You know that I will always be loyal to you for as long as you live…I won't ready any backup plans until you catch an inoperable disease, now please! My touchie's starting to cry!" the banshee retorted, starting to lose the image of the shirtless pirate in her imagination

Al accepted his inevitable fate and reached his hand down the covers into the disgraceful cavern known as P'egeesa's Touchie, two round and saggy lumps of serpentine flesh kept only in shape by the tightest fabric known to Asari-kind. This was the part that the Asari-loving beings of the galaxy were forbidden to share with the rest of the galaxy.

But Al had other ideas on his mind, for he had recently adopted a new hobby, one he would participate in again this night, one P'eg went to sleep. He knew that the torture that his hand was undergoing would all be worth it once she fell asleep, and he could put his plan into action.

Before long, P'eg returned to her dream about the shirtless pirate, and Al silently excused himself into the hallway beside their bedroom.

He first checked into the room of Ryn, who was sound asleep, clutching his inflatable, female Turian doll closely, a smile creeping onto each snore on his face. He then ventured to K'elli's room, who naturally wasn't in her room, but in that of a random teenagers no doubt, which relieved Al…sort of.

The coast was clear, and Al fetched his materials. The materials were highly classified, so he had to hide them in the one place no one would think to look…the oven. He mentally thanked P'eg that her incessant laziness forbade her from ever entering the kitchen aside from being closer to the telephone console, as it made for the perfect hiding place for Al.

Al crept into the living room, and into the kitchen, approaching the oven and removing a cardboard box from its insides. The box contained clothes, but not any clothes, only the best that credits could afford. Al had to sell one of his kidneys to gain the outfit, but it's purpose he thought would be infinitely more profitable.

Al changed in the kitchen, equipping white bell bottoms, blue briefs, red gloved, a blue face mask in the shape of two circles with a single arrow pointing out of either side, and finally his prized possession. A slightly sweaty smelling t-shirt which bore the human symbol of femininity contained within a red circle with a dash through it, and a single phrase: "No Ma'am".

My dear readers, I neglected to offer you some recent news in present life on The Citadel. For the escapades of ravenous females have suddenly decreased, and females now keep their heads on swivels, for the thought that they could be the next target of a new vigilante. There is a man who has been rescuing the defenseless men from the horror that awaited both themselves and their wallets, and he is known as No Ma'am Man!

On any given night, he roams the dark, dreary fabricated streets of the Citadel on the prowl for the predators of men from far and wide. The night before he prevented a Salarian from paying the bill on a date with a female Drell, when he exposed the secret bill she had hidden from him. He broke up a wedding mere seconds before the groom spoke "I do" by showing scandalous images of the bride with the Krogan bartender, saving the man's financial future. He is most famous for making a Human male fake his death after he sprayed a fire hose on his wife, removing her makeup, and forcing him look upon her face.

"A Menace" yell the politicians

"A Misogynist" yell the women

"A Hero" yell the men who he saves.

The No Ma'am Man is of course Al Bundy, and he performs this duty as a service to mankind, vowing to show the true face of femininity, and the dangers it conceals, from otherwise hapless men. It isn't a paying job, but Al was rewarded with the knowledge that he saved his fellow men, it was enough for him.

This night, No Ma'am Man stalked the streets of the Lower Wards; he tried to take a taxi to it, but was denied because of his horrible-smelling feet. He was ever alert, knowing that a female could strike from any corner, from any shadow.

He spotted a male Turian stationing himself at an ATM, such a vulnerable position Al thought. Al gave him careful watch, for females can smell money from miles away, it was a matter of when, not if.

As if on command, a troupe of females began to close in upon the easy mark, an Asari, a Human female, and a Drell female. Each of which was attracted by the Turian's apparently sizable bank account. Al needed to wait for the right moment to strike, or else he would look like a crazy human dressed in his underwear.

The females were as scantily clad as could be, or rather the Drell and Human were, the Asari dressed naturally. Their tops were low cut, their bottoms were high-cut, and their faces were lost in an ocean of make-up.

In truth their appearance didn't matter, for society dictated that all women deserved positive attention, whether they were beautiful or not, males were obviously not afforded the same privilege. The females knew that none could say no to them save from the vigilante watching them from afar.

"Hey there tall, spiky, and handsome" began the Human female

"You look a bit lonely, how unexpected from such a powerful-seeming man" the Asari female crooned

"Why don't you come with us, we could use a bite to eat, and we'd love to share a FREE meal with you" the female Drell finished the score

As if by a demonic power, a red beam extended from the females' heads, centralizing before penetrating the Male Turian's brain, forcing him into an agreeable attitude, seducing them with their mere existence.

"W-w-why yesss…I would love to spend an eve-eve-evening with you three lo-love-lovely ladies, why don't I tr-tre-treat you to a meal at the EXPENSIVE restaurant, Le Chateau du Montferrat" the Turian spoke, spirals appearing in his avian eyes, trying desperately to fight their seduction in his mind, though his body didn't stand a chance.

He needed someone to help him…he heeded a hero.

"Halt there you demonic succubae!" yelled an ominous voice from afar

"NO! It can't be, we were so close" the women shrieked in fear

The white figure jumped from behind a dumpster and assumed a football pose, preparing to strike.

"Oh goddess! It's him" The Asari spoke terrified

"BEGONE FROM THIS INNOCENT MAN, BEFORE I DELIVER UPON YOU A PUNISHIMENT SO CRUEL, YOU'LL PREY FOR A FREE MEAL FROM PRISON" Al spoke in the most threatening voice he could muster.

"Oh no! Not me! I had so many more men left to manipulate and scam!" cried the Drell, still hesitantly standing her ground.

"I SEE, WELL THEN FEEL MY WRATH" Al boomed.

The masked hero pulled from his utility belt a football, and assumed a throwing position.

It was now that the Drell decided to make a hasty retreat, running for her life in the opposite direction from the vigilante.

She wasn't aware of course, that she was daring to outrun the best player Polk High had ever seen, she'd have known then that her fate was sealed.

Al threw the ball in its corkscrew motion, sparing no force of gravity before impacting the back of her lizard-like head, rendering her instantaneously unconscious.

"Bi-bi-big deal, we're women after all! He can't hurt us!" the Asari threatened, a kindergartener smirk upon her face.

"YOU ARE RIGHT", Al said, stealthily reaching in his utility belt, before pulling out a rolled up magazine.

This paper fabrication was in fact a vintage copy of the Human's gentleman's magazine: Big'Uns. This publication was the mortal enemy of any female species, there were none immune to its offensive literature.

He flung the rolled up magazine onto the corner of the ATM, leading it to ricochet into the Asari's face, felling her to the ground, wiping her smirk with unconsciousness and drool.

"LUCKY FOR ME…YOU'RE NO WOMAN" Al spoke heroically, whilst winking to the dramatic audience.

"Al right man-pig, you may have gotten those other hussies, but just wait until you get a load of Me." the remaining human female said, lowering her gaze, and reaching her hand slightly to her side purse.

"DO YOU FEEL LUCKY…FEMALE" Al spoke, lowering his gaze equally, whilst reaching for his utility belt.

And thus it was, the result of the encounter ended in a Mexican standoff, with both members of the same species appreciating the irony, they stared each other down, waiting for an imaginary bell to ring, signaling their call to fire.

In the human's bag she reached for a tube of lipstick, sharp to the touch, ready to defile the man's dignity.

In the hero's belt, a sweaty sock, one that suffered three days of constant wear from the slinkiest foot in all of the Citadel: Al Bundy.

Time slowed, and in an instant they fired their weapons, silence filled the Citadel after, the male Turian couldn't bear to watch.

The feuding figure still stood, staring one another down, until the female fell to her knees, succumbing to the suffocation of a shoe salesman's sweaty socks, No Ma'am Man had won.

"Fear not citizen, for I have saved you from financial and emotional ruin" Al spoke triumphantly to ecstatic Turian.

"Spirits above, I don't know what came over me, I tried to say no, but I couldn't stop myself. Thank You…What is your name?" The Turian spoke relieved, wanting to know the identity of his savior.

"Well they call me many things: Misogynist, Pig …Shoe Salesman. But you my dear chap…you may call me No Ma'am Man" Al spoke before throwing a bottle on the ground, spreading a thick cloud of white smoke in the air concealing his escape.

"Thank You No Ma'am Ma-" The Turian tried to thank Al, before choking on the fog of the vaporized hemorrhoid medication Al used as a smoke screen.

At C-Sec central, business operated as usual, officers chatted with one another, as male operated computer consoles and delivered tea and coffee to the abusive officers. All seemed normal, until the door to C-Sec burst open, and the workers were met with the Human dressed in his underwear and a mask.

"Greetings fellow law enforcers, I bring you criminals, they are guilty of the crime of trying to con a hard working man out of his money, present them with their punishment…no need to thank me" Al announced, eyes closed and head held high with pride.

The officers looked at the human who carried a Drell, Asari, and Human female on a rope and brought them into the station, before looking at disbelief at each other.

"So…uh…do you have any proof…or something?" a Krogan officer asked, still confused as to what had just occurred.

That statement brought Al out of his prideful bliss, and he looked like a deer caught in the headlights, knowing he had no conceivable proof of his heroic deed, he awkwardly backed out of the station, and ran as fast as he could away, knowing no taxi would allow him to ride.

"That No Ma'am Man, what a menace to society, he goes around harassing innocent women and ruining relationships, I hope he gets what he deserves someday" The human female chief spoke from her office, as she saw Al run down the street in escape of the still confused officers.

"Yes ma'am, I hope so too" her male assistant spoke, concealing his appreciation for No Ma'am Man, and reveling in his victory. He felt safe at night now, knowing that he wouldn't be seduced by a woman so long as he roamed the streets.

No Ma'am Man stood on the edge of a sky platform, brooding in contemplation. The Citadel was filled with women, most of which were on the hunt for men to exploit. He couldn't save all the men, and pondered to what men would think of him, in the event in which he couldn't save them.

Such topics he could think about later, for No Ma'am Man needed to sleep, in an hour's time Al would need to go to work, and resume his tribulations.

Though it seemed hopeless, No Ma'am wasn't just a man, but an idea. A symbol.

He was the hero Men needed, and Deserved.

He is the Man…THE NO MA'AM MAN


	5. Married With Blue Children V

Married With Blue Children

By Kachimoochi

Chapter V

The Bundy household seemed to be shrouded in a dark cloud of misery and sadness, but none would imagine that the inhabitants were content with their lives. Though The Citadel had no atmosphere, or at least natural atmosphere, many were confused when supernatural events occurred on the prefab street, centralized to a single house.

The two story house, which was seemingly out of the price range of the inhabitants was legendary for not only containing the worst that Asari and Human kind had to offer, but it seemed that unfortunate events permeated the very ground the prefab was bolted to.

In the wee hours of the night, sometimes a woman could be heard moaning and groaning as if she was being tickled to death, whilst simultaneously a man could be heard crying and wailing in torment, as if he were being mauled alive by a merciless beast.

Whenever the blended family threw a private barbecue, it seemed that the combined protein meats that the neighborhood families possessed would mysteriously disappear, alongside any light alcohol, decent artificial lawn furniture, and any spare change.

Finally, when The Citadel decided to adopt the Human custom of Halloween, whenever children would walk up to the house, bags filled with swag, they would exit the porch with bags full of Varren doodie, a treat most unsavory.

It was coincidently the same year that Halloween was forbidden on the Citadel, and the establishment of the Varren Doodie Taxation Committee.

Despite the penalties the inhabitants of the Citadel must suffer at the hands of the family from hell, none could imagine the suffering of the family patriarch, Al Bundy. Though his story may by now have lost a bit of its luster, it is nevertheless a cautionary tale of what can happen when a man possesses a semblance of potential, an Asari is always watching.

In said house, a beast of an Asari in size five leggings sat upon a loveseat made of the finest Thessian leather. It was the most valuable possession in the house, and it served many purposes, more than making up for its 540,000 credit asking price, plus the 60,000 sales tax.

In one hand of the red-crested parasite rested a magazine labeled "Asari Endgame: How to Squeeze as Much Money from Your Alien Husband as Possible" which he dexterously flipped and held with her fingers. She even paid extra to acquire it in magazine format, thinking that the standard Omni-Tool application was for peasants. Her other feeler possessed a pair of nail clippers, though Asari didn't produce keratin, the transformative surgery was well worth it, it was a popular human fashion trend after all. She clipped away at the vestiges of artificial keratin imbedded in her serpentine feet, with the corpses being eaten by the family guardian, Bu'kk.

She did all of this instinctively as her watched her favorite talk show, O'pla. This is a show about a strong, independent human female teaching other strong, independent females tips and tricks on how to emotionally manipulate their mates. In truth, O'Pla had once been a legitimist journalist, until she realized that exploiting the shared evolutionary trait of female greed was much more profitable, once couldn't claim she was nonsensical, her female mob wouldn't let them last long.

P'geesa's eyes were transfixed on the screen, whilst her appendages preformed their usual routines, despite the ruthlessness and sloth of Asari, they could well perform many tasks simultaneously. She had since been working on using her feet to feed herself bon bons, to an Asari it was considered wasteful to not have complete mastery over their limbs, they were famous for their flexibility after all.

P'geesa was awoken from her geocentric trance by a loud swing and slam of the front door console, it was Al no doubt, and he must be mad, he wouldn't forcibly close an automatic door console otherwise.

She tried to keep her attention to the screen as long as she possibly could, but the trance was dissolved by the stench of wet Varren and stinky socks.

"P'eg! Where did you go today?" Al demanded.

"I have no idea what you're talking about darling, I was cleaning the home all day" P'eg spoke innocently, turning her head to focus on her nail clipping.

"So…you didn't rack up 6,000 credits on my credit card?" Al accused.

"Well…you know I don't cook, so I had to go out and get something to eat, I know you men believe women are supposed to be "thin as a pin" but even we need to eat sometimes" P'eg redirected, sensing the jig was up.

"Firstly…you're not a woman you're an Asari, I had to learn that the hard way. Secondly, you are thin as a pin, so you couldn't have spent 6,000 on food, what did you spend it on?" Al responded, not falling for the guilt trip.

"Fine Al, it was supposed to be a surprise! I had the couch completely refurbished, I even spared no expense. If you hadn't insisted on wearing your socks inside the prefab, the stink wouldn't have penetrated the delicate fabric; this is your fault Al!" P'eg finalized, knowing that a diving comedy was about to deliver itself.

"Oh…my…I'm so sorry for the inconvenience P'eg" Al spoke sarcastically.

"Well I forgive you darling, why don't you buy me some more bon bons to make up for it, I can almost feed myself with my right foot you now, just imagine what you could do with that" P'eg spoke seductively.

"The thought that you would ever make food to put on your feet is enough of a mystery for me" Al finalized, sitting on the new couch.

Minutes passed as Al stared at the being he was legally obliged to call his wife, as she continued to read her magazine, occasionally looking up to see Al glaring at her.

"Al what is it? Your glairing is causing me to grow stress wrinkles" P'eg spoke exasperated, burying her face in her magazine.

"Oh nothing Blue-baby, I just thought you'd like to hear about my day" Al spoke, offering an introduction to what would undoubtedly be a complaining tirade.

"Al my day was just as hard as yours was, I had to stand on two feet for 4 whole hours while the two attractive Elcor men cleaned the sofa, I may have grown a muscle in my calve, how shameful!" P'eg threw caution to the wind, daring to compare her suffering to the human pin-cushion.

"Well my day started off pretty usual, I arrived to work at 6:30 AM, luckily rush hour on the Citadel is at 7:00, so I had to get an early start. When I clocked in I was met with the district manager, who probably became manager by consuming and digesting her competition, she commanded me to help the delivery men repair an order of Krogan Widowmakers, you know the Krogan pumps with 6 inch heels?" Al began.

P'eg froze in terror as to what she was witnessing.

O'pla was beginning her second segment, and Al's incessant complaining would cause her to miss her dramatic entrance.

"After I finished taking inventory and bandaging my hands, I was met with my first customer of the day, A Drell mother of three, with the body of five. She wanted to pick out shoes for her three daughters, each of which looked like they were digesting rats from their morning breakfast." Al continued.

P'geesa began to sweat, even though Asari didn't posses sebaceous glands. She could imagine what O'pla was doing; she imagined she flew through the audience with a jetpack, purchased by her husband, Feldman.

"After I politely suggested that they Drells shouldn't buy Crocs, as it could be in some form considered self loathing, they politely knee'd me in the groin. As I doubled over in agony, and opened my mouth to cry, they each simultaneously spat in my mouth. Did you know that Drell saliva caused hallucinations?" Al recalled.

"Mmmm…does it ever" P'eg spoke dreamily, recalling her wild 8th grade experimental phase.

"So after the C-Sec officer arrested me for indecent exposure and public urination, I had to bribe the boar of an Asari with free shoes to avoid bail, she'll probably come by tomorrow and that's not even the worst part." Al began to tear up.

P'eg began to silently hyperventilate, what could O'pla be gifting the audience as Al continued to speak gibberish? A free vid player? A vintage skycar? A harem of male Vorcha? The suspense was killing her.

"After the mental scarring of almost becoming the boyfriend of a rough-looking Hanar in the slammer, I decided to treat myself to an extravagant and expensive meal, a single hamburger from O'Donnel's. The C-Sec officer was holding my wallet as collateral, and she only gave me my credit card for emergencies. After they prepared the burger I wolfed it down in seconds, not even waiting for the receipt, until they demanded payment. I couldn't help myself, I hadn't eaten human food since Bu'kk was a cub" Al shivered as he spoke.

"What could be the gossip" P'eg spoke internally.

Divorce, Alimony, Child Support for non-biological children, she couldn't take the suspense for much longer.

"After the ol' credit card was rejected, they brought out the ol' Omni-Blade and hacked it in half. They then demanded to be immediately compensated, and were quite amused when I said I had no money. Luckily for me the owner was very understanding, he gave me a very generous offer, I could either work at his brother's field or have my kneecaps broken, and I didn't even get to the best part." Al smiled facetiously, about to go in for the closer.

P'eg lost all self control; she made a grab for the remote to reactivate the console, only to be snatched from her husband, though she was obsessed with the screen, she was an amateur to a Psycho-Dad master.

"Oh you know the company he made me work for, you were partly responsible for its creation, it was the Varren Doodie Taxation Committee, I was shoveling doodie for six hours to pay off a 5 credit burger, that explains why Vorcha are such cheap labor." Al finished.

"Alright Al I can't take it anymore, I'll find a way to pay you back, just please have mercy! This is my fault not O'pla's, don't take your anger out on her" P'eg begged.

"I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid, you're never going to pay off the card, I did you one better, even better than robbing you of your precious O'Pla." Al glared and smiled deviously.

"No…y-you don't mean…you b-b-bluffing?" P'geesa quaked in fear.

"Ohh…yes. I have officially canceled the credit card and got a new one in my own name, I had to sell 6 pints of blood to pay for it, but I think this will put me in the clear for some time. You'll have to ask my permission now before you leech off me now P'eg" Al roared in pleasure, pointing and laughing at the gobsmacked Asari.

P'geesa fell to her knees and wailed to the Goddess above, mascara stained her blue face as tears ran down the rest, her primary use of power had now been ruined, she'd actually have to use her brain to find another tactic.

Al wasn't naïve, he knew P'eg couldn't wait until she'd bled him dry, but he'd stay on her heels until the day she did.

This was a small victory, but statistically it was due, as far as Al could count the score was as such: P'geesa-564 . Al-8.

Al left the sobbing woman in the living room and went to see his pet Varren in the kitchen, who if was in a kind mood, would share some of his Varren food with him.

Al sat beside Bu'kk and scooped a handful of protein-substance in his mouth, it tasted like victory.

This was a game to them both, they'd never admit it, but they found pleasure in scoring over each other, it was like cops and robbers, one couldn't exist without the other.

Today was Al's day, and that was all that mattered.


	6. Married With Blue Children VI

Married With Blue Children

By Kachimoochi

Chapter VI

Nighttime had come to The Citadel, or rather the artificial night cycle. Much to the chagrin of the newly arrived Humans, the previously agreed upon time for the nightcycle was decided to be every 63 hours, or whatever the galactic equivalent was. This was mainly the cause of the Asari, who of course discovered the abandon Prothean city, and modeled it much after their culture.

This didn't bother the other Milky Way species much either, Turians, Salarians, and even Krogan operated on days longer than 40 hours, so they had no reason to complain for the ridiculous nightcycles. Humans on the other hand suffered greatly from insomnia and vitamin deficiencies due to the cruel time zones and artificial light.

Even so, the night period had come to the Human-themed prefabs, and most were sound asleep. Most wouldn't leave their homes for the two-day human period, the pitch black ruining any sense of purpose. Thankfully, most jobs on The Citadel were accommodating to the acclimating species, allowing Humanity grace periods for their jobs due to the demanding schedule, all except for Al Bundy's shoe store.

Although, this night cycle was a special occasion, not because of a holiday or event, but because Al Bundy wasn't at the New Age Footgear Store.

In the home beside the dark and dreary prefab of the Bundy's lived the Rowids. They were a Turian couple who decided to live in the Human prefab neighborhood, not out of interest, but because their interplanet banking firm operated in human hours, for inclusion purposes.

The couple lay silently in their bed, not that they had been silent all night of course. Theirs was a romance seemingly incomprehensible to most. Most males of Steiv Rowids age were overweight, depressed, and plotting their sweet release from life. Though Steiv was content, his love of his wife Marseye was genuine, as comical as it sounds.

Despite every odd, they were happy. Which resulted in most men being jealous, and Steiv becoming arrogant.

Not even sleep could separate their love; Steiv and Marseye were wrapped around one another in nocturnal bliss, dreaming of one another, and of their escapades to come. Steiv in particular dreamt of a romantic trip to Ruolido, the 5th moon of Palaven, a safe haven for the Dextro lovers all over the galaxy.

Steiv saw himself and Marseye sitting at a café table, a flute of 200 year old Archeasian malt in their hands. They watched the sun curve around their home planet as the darkness slowly surrounded the moon, giving light to the stars above. This was perfection, this was bliss, this was the way it was meant to be.

"Oh Steiv, you're the love of my life" Marseye whispered, starstruck.

"There has never been perfection in my life until I met you, my love" Steiv answered.

"Oh Steiv"

"Oh Marseye"

"Oh Steiv"

"Oh Marsye"

"Steiv…"

"Marseye"

"Steiv!..."

"Hush my love; we've all the time in the world"

"STEIV!" Marseye bellowed, shaking the very mountain top they stood on.

All at once, a being of immense size rose from the horizon, swallowing the sun and the sky in all its massiveness. It had a humanoid shape, a massive midsection, though equally muscular arms.

"Steiv! Wake up!" A hidden voice boomed, as the giant lowered its shadowy head.

Its body was shadowed by the lack of sun, but Steiv could make out a familiar shape as the being lowered its gigantic head towards him. It had a circular outline, with lines forming a checkered rectangle covering its mouth. The Human writing on the side of the circle translated itself as Bush High '67.

"Come with me Steiv!" The voice bellowed.

"No Spirits please, No!" Steiv begged.

Steiv tried to run to save Marseye, but she wasn't where she appeared to be. When he last saw her she sat beside him at the table, but there was no Turian, there was instead a strange creature. It was a white bird, eyes wide as the sun, and a thick red membrane hanging from its chin. It squawked loudly as it hopped desperately trying to escape the massive giant, only to be stomped on by said colossus.

Steiv could only run, for it wasn't death he feared any longer, but another threat was looming. The beast expelled a strong stench from its mouth, a green gas expelling fast towards Steiv. He didn't recognize the putrid odor, but he could have sworn it smelled familiar, as if they were the foot stockings of his next door neighbor.

Finally all hope was lost, as Steiv ran into a brick wall, cornered against the shadowy, stinky demon. He swallowed loudly, accepting his end was near. He muttered in his natural tongue under his breath, a final prayer to his loved ones, and a greeting to the Spirits he'd soon meet, as the shadow slammed a hand upon his head.

"No, oh Spirits please. No. Take the Bundy's, you'll be doing us all a favor, just let me live, I beseech you!" Steiv offered a final plea, not aware that his body voiced the utterance in reality.

Steiv's eyes opened suddenly, realizing he was still in bed, Marseye still sound asleep, but also realizing he still wasn't alone. The shadow was indeed a shadow, and it began to move towards Steiv.

"Steiv, for god sakes, get up!" The shadow spoke.

"Wha…? Who's there? I'm warning you…my wife knows martial arts" Steiv threatened.

"You bird brain! It's me…Al Bundy" The shadow spoke as it moved out of the darkness, revealing itself to be the shoe salesman from next door.

"Al! What in the name of the Spirits are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry Steiv, but it's an emergency, I had nowhere else to turn" The Human spoke quietly.

Realizing he had to stay silent, so as not to invoke the wrath of an awoken Marseye, Steiv took his tone to a whisper as well.

"Do you have any idea what time it is! How did you get in here anyways?"

"I climbed up the tree in our yard, and hopped to your roof, I picked you're window lock and let myself in. You really should get a better lock by the way; you don't want Ryn to expand his peeping empire to your abode." Al responded.

Realizing that their presence ran the risk of waking Marseye, Steiv motioned Al to the stairs leading them to his living room, which they both tip-toed down.

"Alright Al, what is it? It had better be good, if I'm not around for Marseye's morning glory, she'll give me an afternoon hell!" Steiv announced, taking a seat on his recliner.

"Steiv this is important! Much more important than your love life, an innocent life is at stake"

"By the Spirits, what happened?"

"It was horrible Steiv" Al began. "I had just gotten home from a 18 hour shift, plus another 6 hours of traffic, when she was there, waiting for me!"

"Who?"

"Who do you think? The red-devil herself: P'eg"

"You're wife greeted you when you arrived home, isn't that a tragedy" Steiv said sarcastically.

"You know what she's capable Steiv, and she's finally done it this time, she's gone off the deep end, I think we may have to take her out!"

"Slow down…what happened next?"

"She told me that today was our 23 anniversary, I had no idea how I forgot, there's a wrinkle on my forehead for every year of crimson torment!"

"Alright…so you forgot you're anniversary. That's no big deal, just give P'geesa some time, she'll forgive you eventually. Just lie low at the Nudie bar or something, and let me get back to my dream, please?"

"I'm not finished Steiv, it gets worse. She wanted an anniversary present"

"So what? Get her something she'll like, maybe some Asari scalp dye, or a pickpocket manual, I don't understand why you need my help"

"Steiv, she's already gotten herself a gift, a whole 200,000 credits spent on my new credit card, I don't even know how she figured out the pin"

"Did you use your initials again?"

Al looked away suspiciously.

"Al?"

"Well I didn't think she'd try it again a second time! I guess reverse psychology doesn't work on Asari, now I know!"

"Wait! So she got herself a gift? Then why is she cross with you?"

"I don't know, something about me never listening or caring. I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention, but then she did it!"

"Did what?"

"She said that she'd give me 24 hours to show her an expression of my love to her or she…she…she!" Al spoke shakily, voice breaking up in tears as he spoke.

"She'd what?"

"She'll destroy my prized copy of Fornax!"

Al was now on his knees, gripping onto Steiv's, crying into his inner thy. What was once a feeling of grave concern for his reluctant friend now turned to frustration and grief. Leave it to Al Bundy to shed a genuine tear over losing an exploitative publication of alien women.

"That's it! You woke me up from the best dream I'd ever had to whine about losing a copy of Fornax? Are you really so destitute that you can't waltz down to the drug store and pay the extravagance of 5 credits for a 20 page magazine of naked Asari? Just when I thought you couldn't get any more pathetic." Steiv huffed, yanking his leg from Al's grasp and brooding by the windowsill, leaving Al in a pile on the floor.

"Steiv, you're not listening. It's issue 578!"

At this moment, all time stopped. All sound turned silent, and all breath in both beings skipped for a full second, knocking both to the ground.

"Issue 578!" Steiv yelled, shellshocked.

All men in the entire galaxy knew of issue 578 of Fornax. It was made in 2261, during the golden period of exotic alien gentlemen's magazines. It featured a centerfold on the most famous Asari in all galaxy history: Ty'lovia Murkee. She was a famous actress, advocate, mistress, and model. She had single handedly caused 3 revolutions on Palaven because of love scandals, and blackmailed 24 Salarian dignitaries to resign. She was not just a pretty face, but a lethal tool in the Asari government.

She was genetically modified to be the most perfect model/agent in history. She was quite literally made to cause scandals. Her photo wasn't rare of course, pictures of her with dignitaries of every specie circulated the extranet image searches from far and wide, but this was a special circumstance.

On a mission to gain an Asari controlling interest in the Fornax Corporation, she was sent in to seduce the founder, a Salarian called Youd Netiv. She blackmailed him with damming photographical evidence to sell a majority of the corporation's shares to an Asari shell company, funded by the Asari government.

The Asari would use Fornax as a vessel to entrap men of every species to enter relationships with Asari, not only to further their species, but better expand their interplanet monopolies and relationships.

While undercover, Ty'Lovia starred in only a single issue, where everything was on full display. The Asari government launched a secret campaign to destroy every known copy in existence, not only to preserve the image of Ty'Lovia, but to also hide the evidence of the Asari government's hostile takeover of Fornax.

They would send spies disguised as patrons at auctions to purchase and destroy the publications, privately or publically alike. It is presently unknown how many copies of issue 578 exist in the entire galaxy, Fornax doesn't even acknowledge its existence. But all males in the Milky Way know the truth, and worship the issue, fictional or otherwise as a holy bible.

Not even the staunch conservative Turian Steiv Rowids was immune to Ty'Lovia's charms. Having consumed all media that wasn't censored featuring her during his teenage years. He had heard the legend of issue 578, not knowing if it were a myth or not, until now.

"So it is real" Steiv uttered silently.

"Yes it is…I'm the only one I know who has a copy, we have to do something!" Al loudly whispered.

"Then it's settled, we'll kill her"

"Are you sure Steiv?"

"Like you said, an innocent life is at stake"

Artificial thunder cracked in the background sky, soothing the sleep of certain humans, and allowing others a creepy ambience. How appropriate for the plot being conceived by the Human and Turian pair.

TO BE CONTINUED


	7. Married With Blue Children VII

Married With Blue Children

By Kachimoochi

Chapter VII

The ideas were in motion, the dye was cast, there would soon be no turning back.

What would be coming would be nothing short of history in the making, in but a few short hours a man would gain the ultimate liberation, the murder of his wife. Such a blessing fell finally to Al Bundy, the lonely footwear salesman living on the Citadel. However, the act that Al would soon commit wasn't of malice, at least not more so than usual, but rather to save the life of an innocent. To save the thing Al loved most, he needed to kill the thing that he was obligated to pretend to love, it seemed like a win-win.

The story had been simple, nothing Al could have done would have been much more complicated. One day Al had come home from a laborious day at the footwear store, his fingers crooked and cramped from shoving them in between the space of tight shoes and overweight women's feet. All he desired was to plop down lifelessly on his sofa, ideally covered by the warmth of his loyal Varren Bukk, and slip blissfully into death. But fate wasn't kind to Al Bundy, him and his entire kind suffered from a generational, unending curse.

As Al crossed the threshold of the automatic door to his prefab, he was greeted by the horrific sight of his wife, P'geesa, standing before him with her arms angrily gripping her wide, healthy hips. Her red-dyed crest upon her light blue flesh beamed with fury, her eyes glassed in tears, of anger and hurtfulness. It was then Al also noticed that the entirety of his living room was shrouded in darkness, only a lamp lighting the horror that was his legal companion.

"Al Bundy! You inconsiderate baboon!" P'eg bellowed.

"Oh thank heavens" Al dropped to his knees and shouted. "You must be the Grim Reaper, sent to finally smite me and deliver me from the pestilence that is my existence"

"Get up you living scent of wet Varren" P'eg spoke maliciously, gripping her Human husband and pulling him back to his feet.

She then gripped her husband by the collar of his work shirt, and flung his body into a near by chair, Al fell into the luxurious and expensive fabric, hoping his end was near. P'eg stood before him lit up by the pure fury and sadness which radiated from her very outline. The tight-fitting clothing she wore probably didn't have anything to do with it.

"Do you have any idea what today is?" She demanded.

"The day you come to your senses and leave me for a man who sells women's shirts?" Al answered honestly and desperately.

Knowing that her husband's sarcasm was genuine, and not the usual banter they exchanged, she broke out in tears. Not only the tears, but also uttering a sound, a horrible sound. It was similar to a whale's voice, high pitched and combined with a New York accent. Al knew that the beast was soon to screech, and quickly covered his ears in effort to drown out the horrible noise, to miniscule avail.

"AaaaaaaaaaaaLlllllllllll" P'eg whined.

The piercing screech nearly burst Al's eardrums and rattled his cranium. Such a noise was an unimaginable torture. She frequently sounded her alarm, in between bouts of crying and sobbing. All the while, Al racked his brain trying to find out what was upsetting her so. It wasn't pay day, and his pay went directly to her anyways, it wasn't her birthday as she was here and not at the male dancing bar, it wasn't her mother's birthday as the Citadel still withstood the current gravity, they didn't care about the kid's birthday, so there could only be once possibility.

As swiftly as he could muster, Al leapt from his chair and made his way to the nearest mirror. There was one below a shelf of accomplishments, which held both his football awards, and his wedding portrait, P'eg's choice. He propped himself upon the shelf and slid his face to the translucent screen. With his finger, he spread his eye lid open, and with his other began counting the number of bags which lay underneath.

He frantically counted, starting again after being constantly distracted by his wife's sobs and whines, losing count.

"19…20…21…22…23…24…25, oh wait those are tear trails" Al muttered as he counted.

"Yes! You inconsiderate imbicile, it is our anniversary!"

"I'm sorry P'eg, usually it takes a week or so for me to grow another bag to celebrate this wonderous occasion" Al jested genuinely.

Suddenly P'eg ceased crying, and looked once again upon her husband with an expression of malice and rage. Al returned to his preset position cowering on the Thessian sofa P'eg threw him upon. He then noticed again that much of the house was shrouded in darkness, this was emphasized as P'eg began to walk into the abyss of the kitchen, activating a nearby light console.

She carried something in between her hands, it sounded heavy to Al. Secretly Al was very pleased with this recent turn of events, as he saw that he could only profit from this. Either she would leave him or she would kill him, either way, Al would soon be delivered from his seemingly eternal torment, now he could focus on getting rid of his children.

P'eg activated the console, bringing both the living room and kitchen to light. Al's eyes instinctively shut, as a reflex to the sharp whiteness that met his eyes. When he opened them again after a few minutes he was met with the most horrifying sight he'd ever seen, ever imagined. It was the stuff of nightmares.

He saw P'eg standing over a chair, with a figure bound in rope. The figure was small, barely filling out the binding, serving more as a metaphor than a threat, but it was one that Al understood in no uncertain terms. As his vision regained its usual dullness, he began to focus on the figure bound to the chair, which P'eg appeared to be holding hostage.

"Ah fine you blue baby, go ahead, kill my Vid Guide, I'll work an extra day and buy another" Al retorted, in a misguided attempt to anger his wife.

"Oh this isn't a Vid Guide Al, since you ruined a special day of mine, I'll ruin a special thing of yours in return, you don't have any special days for me to kill instead" P'eg retorted.

Al's eyes focused on the paperback publication which lay bound to the chair in Omni-Rope, and was horrified on what he saw.

It was a copy of Fornax, the premier gentlemen's magazine throughout the entire galaxy, world renowned for its prestige in journalism and bodacious bodies. It was a difficult transition for Al to make from Big Un's to Fornax, but there was no rule saying he couldn't patronize both publications.

Al soon recognized that this wasn't any ordinary issue of Fornax, but rather Al's most prized possession, a valuable priceless to all, something money couldn't buy, something worth killing over. Issue 578 of Fornax.

Al all men worth their salt knew the issue, or at least knew of the legend surrounding it. It was an issue featuring the main spread of Ty'Lovia Murkee, noted mistress to the most famous politicians of every species, and a known agent of the Asari government. She went undercover as a model within the company in effort to blackmail the owners into selling their company to the Asari government. This was both done to increase profits in the government, and to spread the influence of Asari by encouraging interbreeding between the species with Asari, to prevent the births of Ardat Yakshi's.

As a result of the merger by the government, The Asari went on a book burning quest to destroy every copy of the issue, to preserve the image of Ty'Lovia so she could continue her missions, and to erase all traces of bureaucratic conspiracy from the history of Fornax. Undercover sellers would purchase the issues en mass from stores, privately from owners, and offer amazing rewards for turning in the issue. Most did so without knowing how valuable their issue was.

Time would pass, and hackers would reveal the deceit the Asari went through to acquire the Fornax company, therefore exposing the corruption and breaking Ty'Lovia's cover. There were thought to be only a few remaining issues in existence, from troublemakers who disobeyed The Citadel government and the Asari race. The issue was thought to only be a legend, and Al took great pride in being one of the few owners of such an honor.

"P'eg! Think about what you're doing, that is an innocent life, it's worth more than both our lives combined, and still more!" Al screamed in desperation, falling off the sofa to his knees and crawling to his wife.

"I don't care Al, since you seem to value this paper more than you do your wife of 23 years, I think I'll kill it, so I'm the only thing you have left to love" P'eg spoke self-righteously.

"P'eg, you could conduct a holocaust across the entire universe and I'd still find something to love before I'd even consider loving you!" Al shouted, near sobbing.

"In that case, I'll settle for your most prized possession" P'eg muttered, revealing a knife in her hand, and putting it to the magazine's throat.

"Okay Okay P'eg, calm down, now tell me, what do you want from me, money? Presents?" Al begged for the life of his loved one.

"I don't need either, I already spend your credit card on a portrait of myself as Queen of Thesia, and don't worry I got it commissioned at a steal, only a measly 200,000 credits" P'eg revealed.

"Then what do you want? A goat sacrifice? A tattoo of yourself on my face? A kiss? Oh God anything but a kiss" Al pleaded.

P'eg withdrew the knife from the neck of the magazine, and bought it to her chin, pointing it to her chin as she turned her eyes upward in thought. What could she want? What did she not already have? Should she show mercy? Nah, that'd make her look weak.

Al berated himself for his weakness, and even more so by giving his wife a blank check for anything she wanted. He knew what this could mean for the future, she'd do this anytime he wanted anything. She'd probably kill the magazine anyways, Marseye would say it was offensive to female kind or some such baloney.

Finally, their eyes met, P'eg with a devious and clever look, and Al with the same dumbfounded and pathetic expression he always had, eyes scrunched and front teeth exposed.

"I've decided what I want" P'eg announced.

"Fine then, let me call the tattoo parlor" Al whispered in defeat, as he was about to activate his Omni-Tool.

"No not that, I'll save that for when you forget my mother's birthday. No, what I want is an expression of our love, something that says: No matter how old you get and no matter how much of my money you spend, I'll always love you. Got it!" P'eg demanded elegantly.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get a tattoo of you on my face?" Al questioned pitifully.

"Yes I'm sure, you have until tomorrow night to come up with an expression of 23 years of matrimonial bliss, or else it's curtains for your precious Ty'Lovia Murkee!" P'eg shouted, ascending the stairs with the magazine in tow dramatically.

All was left in the lonesome of the living room, and he collapsed upon the floor in tears. How could he possibly muster a gesture of kindness and love for the malevolent creature that cursed his existence. What could he do? He began sobbing upon the floor, not knowing where to turn.

Finally, he had a single idea, a final ray of hope. He knew that Steiv knew all about romantic gestures, for he never stopped bragging about them. It seemed impossible that the both of them could be married for the exact same amount of time as they were, and still keep their spark. It was an accomplishment that no other male he knew accomplished. This of course brought about the rumor that Steiv wasn't a man, but a clever restroom viewing assured them that Steiv was indeed an anomaly. Or at least he had a very skilled surgeon.

Al got up in a huff, and ran out of the house in search of his Turian friend, in hopes that he'd give him some idea what to do. It was the night cycle of the Citadel, but it didn't matter to Al, an innocent life was at stake, Steiv would understand, right?


End file.
